Outtakes
by JessieBess
Summary: A series of one shots featuring Tom and Sybil. Mostly covers the early years of their relationship. Chap 1: It's summertime, it's hot, there's a naked Tom.
1. Chapter 1

**Since finally finishing The Betrayal I thought I'd do something a bit more lighthearted. This started out as something for Thru the Years but then I thought of one of the many flashbacks I didn't use in Downton Remembered. I might start posting more of those flashbacks. Hope you enjoy this!**

 **1897**

For eight year old Tom one of the perks of summer was the weeks spent on his grandfather's farm. Sure there would be plenty of chores to do but there would also be great rewards. His belly would be full of vine ripened tomatoes, freshly picked peas and runner beans, roasted or pan fried trout and salmon plucked that morning from the nearby streams and strawberries so sweet one didn't need cream. Some nights he'd sleep outside with the moon and the stars as his blanket. But best of all was swimming in the pond.

It was a fine summer day brimming with warmth from a sun shining brightly in a cloudless sky. Tom used his shirt sleeve to wipe away beads of sweat that dampened his forehead and the back of his neck as he looked across the field to the pond where the water glittered invitingly.

"Those beans don't just drop into ye bucket" his grandfather gently chided.

Tom took one last long look at the pond and sighed then, heeding his grandfather's words, starting picking.

It was an hour later when the Branson boys, their chores completed for the afternoon, dashed down to the pond. Quickly stripping off all their clothes each of them plunged into the dark water. After hours of working in the sun the cool water felt refreshing on their naked bodies.

Soon the boys' squeals of delight and peals of laughter filled the air as the three Branson brothers happily splashed and paddled around in the pond. Liam dived under the water to avoid being tagged while Tom paddled away as fast as he could from the outstretched hands of Brian. Feeling that Brian was getting too close, Tom turned and splashed water directly at his face hoping the diversion would allow Tom to escape his clutches. When they finally tired of playing tag, Tom lay on his back floating in the calm water. He closed his eyes, letting his body drift, thinking this was about as close to heaven on earth as he could imagine.

 **1915**

Tom stepped out of his cottage and looked up at the sky. With the sun shining brightly in a cloudless sky the air was still and thick. Although it was late summer, the past week had been unusually warm and he had spent most of that time in the garage with his sweat dampened shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and beads of sweat on his forehead as he worked on a particularly stubborn problem with a gear shift. But as he looked up at the sky he thought his plans for his precious afternoon off was the perfect antidote to the relentless heat and sun.

Although the pond wasn't that far from the house, it was nestled deep in the woods on the back side of the house, well away from any footpath and therefore quite private. It was quite by chance that he had found the pond when walking through the woods he had noticed something glistening off to his left. Winding his way among the trees he found the glistening was sunlight reflecting off the water of a fat teardrop shaped pond.

Since then he had come here several times to sit, sometimes on a log with his bare feet dangling in the water, and eat his lunch or read a book. Whether it was spring or summer or even fall, it was a blissful place to sit on a warm day. Today he had a lunch in his basket but instead of a book he had a towel and an extra set of drawers. He smiled thinking that there had been one good thing to come out of this war … drawers. Men now had the option of wearing cotton knee length drawers paired with a sleeveless top instead of the uncomfortable, and usually itchy and scratchy union suit.

After shedding his clothes down to his drawers, he had thought to take those off too but what if … he looked at the quiet woods all around him … he doubted anyone would come by but … He waded into the pond where the cool water felt refreshing. A few powerful strokes and he was in the middle of the pond. Treading water he looked around him noticing that, unlike the way he had come from where there was a sliver of grassland between the woods and the water, behind him and to his left the woods came right to the water's edge and even a few tree branches hung over the water. It felt good to stretch out his legs and arms and soon Tom was swimming first to one side and then the other. At points he would dive under and try to touch the bottom of the pond just to gage how deep the water was. There was something about being in the water, diving under and pushing off from the bottom, racing from one end to the other, that gave him a sense of freedom not found on shore.

Finally tiring, he laid back and just floated. Closing his eyes his mind wandered back to those wonderful summer days frolicking in the pond on his grandfather's farm. _You're it Tommy. No fair splashing me like that Liam. Tommy I'll race you to the shore. I can stay underwater longer than you Tommy. Tommy … Tommy …_ Tom … Tom …

Tom opened his eyes. TOM!

It wasn't his imagination, someone was calling his name.

SHE was standing on that sliver of grass mingled with mud, waving her arms.

He waved back and quickly swam towards her stopping a few yards from shore and stood where the water was just above his waist.

"I didn't want to disturb you since you looked so peaceful out there but" she said as she pointed out to the pond "you almost floated into that big log."

Tom turned and saw the errant log that was drifting in the water. He nodded his head and said "thanks."

This time when he looked at her he noticed she was staring at him with her mouth open in a perfect O and her eyes widened. "Is there another" he began as he turned "log coming after me?" But he saw nothing near him.

"Well … I … I …" Sybil stammered. She knew she shouldn't keep looking but she found she was unable to turn away from the sight of Tom standing in the water, his chest dotted with beads of water glimmering in the sunshine, those powerful arms, his hair …

There was a sudden snapping sound in the woods and a deer darted out never breaking his stride as he loped off back into the woods. It was enough however to break Sybil's trance. She lowered her head "I better be going" she said before walking quickly into the woods.

"I have lunch, there's plenty to share" he called out as he watched in puzzlement as Sybil scampered away. He took a step forward before realizing the cause of Sybil's sudden discomfort and he felt a pang of embarrassment. Then, running his hand across his naked chest, he chuckled.

 **A/N: The army in WWI really did change men's underwear. I'm not really sure if it was done by 1915 but we'll just go with it.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for the reviews of Summertime. I loved writing Downton Remembered and have quite a few scenes I didn't post in that story. I'll have to think of a new name for this story since not all scenes are summertime.**

Standing beside the motor car Tom takes his hat off and raises his face to feel the warmth of the springtime sun. After the past few days of overcast skies and intermittent rain, the sun's warm rays feel good on his face. He stands there with his eyes closed and basking in the sun's warmth until he heard the faint sound of voices floating through the open wooden front door.

Quickly adjusting his hat properly on his head he stood ready for his passenger but it was only Carson who appeared. "Lady Sybil shall be a few minutes" he pompously announced before quickly disappearing back through the doorway.

Tom thought it must have been at Sybil's direction that Carson had made such an announcement because he knew Carson would think nothing of letting Tom stand there waiting for his passenger regardless of how long it would be. As he looked towards the doorway, a doorway he, as the lowly chauffeur, was never to walk through, Tom chuckled thinking Carson would surely faint if he knew of his recent escapade of visiting the rooftop.

It had begun innocently enough one afternoon as Tom drove Sybil home from the hospital. Even though he had been here for almost four years now, that first glimpse of the abbey as one rounded the bend and the grand house came into view still managed to astound him. He was intrigued by the many turrets that raised high above the main structure.

"What are the views like from those turrets" Tom asked as he lifted one hand and pointed at the abbey.

"Magnificent" she answered. "You can see for miles. You'd love it."

"Aye" he replied. Looking at her in the rear view mirror, he chuckled as he added "is there any particular one I should perhaps ask his lordship to let me visit?"

Instead of replying she looked at him through the mirror, a mischievous gleam in her eye and a sly smile on her face. Finally she said "don't worry I'll take care of it."

And so five days later Tom found himself following Sybil to the unfamiliar far side of the house away from the casual view of any passerby. His brow creased in puzzlement when she stopped at a window that had been opened an inch or two and then watched in amazement as she lifted the window to its fully open position. Sitting on the window sill she flung her legs over and into the room and then motioned for him to do the same.

He found himself in an empty room with peeling paint and a faint musty smell. "Most of the rooms on this side haven't been used for years" she whispered to his unanswered question.

Following her through a maze of hallways and staircases, she finally opened a door and they stepped outside onto the rooftop of the large center turret. He began to ask her how she had ever found her way here but the breathtaking sights around him choked off any such thoughts. It is magnificent he thought as he turned to take in the panoramic view. So much was forests and fields but there before him was also the village and in a direction were some of the tenet farms. He loved seeing how the roads meandered and discovered a few he didn't think he had driven on yet.

"I've never seen anything like this" he commented. "How you can see how everything fits together … the roads … the village … it's …" he was for once lost for words.

Now as Tom stood by the motor car looking at the front doors to the Abbey he couldn't help but think Carson would surely send him packing if he knew of his rooftop excursion. He chuckled thinking how Carson had seemed uncomfortable when his lordship told him he could use the library. A room just inside the entrance way but Tom was forbidden entry through those grand wooden front doors instead he had to make his way through the servants stairwell and the green baize door.

Tom was so lost in his thoughts he didn't realize Sybil had finally appeared until he heard Carson's deep throated _ahem_.

The British offensive that spring in Arras produced an unfathomable number of casualties. Field hospitals in France did as much as they could before sending many of the wounded to hospitals in England including the Downton Cottage Hospital. The increase in patients caused the nursing staff to work longer hours. As he reached for her hand to help her into the motor car Tom noticed that Sybil was pale and her usually lively blue eyes seemed lusterless. He thought she looked like she needed rest instead of another shift at the hospital.

Tom had noticed that the past few days Sybil had looked worn out and tired when he picked her up at the hospital after her shift. She had confessed to him that she felt quite drained since this new group of arrivals had more severe injuries than the staff was used to. The hospital was almost filled to capacity, rooms normally fitted with only three or four beds now had as many seven or eight cots squeezed into them.

"While I was waiting I was thinking of our rooftop adventure" Tom began in hopes of taking her mind off work. "I'm still amazed at that view."

He chuckled "although I think the sight of you climbing in through the window was almost as amazing."

She looked up at the rear view mirror and gave a slight smile. "You'd be surprised how many times I've climbed in and out of windows."

She laughed as he raised his brow. "As I'm sure you realize by now I wasn't the most lady-like of little girls."

"Well I'm always ready to listen to your confessions."

"Only if you tell me some of your childhood misdeeds."

"I must confess I have very little to tell my lady. My mother always described me as her little angel."

At that Sybil gave a full throated laugh. It was good to hear her laugh he thought.

Unfortunately it was a short ride to the hospital and they reached it far too quickly. As she stepped from the motor car, the laughter was gone from her eyes.

"Oh I almost forgot" he said as he quickly reached into the front seat. He handed her a small bag. "I went to the bakery early this morning and-"

"those pastries with the chocolate" she squealed as he handed her the bag.

"It's a good thing you finally came when you did or there might not have been any left."

She playfully smacked his shoulder and the look of delight she gave him made him feel that the early morning drive to the bakery had certainly been worth it.

Now that it was spring it was still daylight when Tom returned to the hospital but as the light began to dwindle Sybil had yet to leave the hospital. The last rays of daylight had vanished when she finally exited the hospital and Tom thought she looked exhausted.

"You shouldn't have waited this late" she said as she slowly walked up to the motor car. "I can always walk home you know."

He offered her a deep grin. "It is my job. I am the chauffeur"

He thought she looked as if she wouldn't have made it to the edge of the village yet all the way to the abbey.

"Why don't you take a day off?" he asked.

Sybil, her eyes blazing, stonily replied "It's my job Branson."

Feeling her tone as well as her facial expression had chastised him he quietly responded "I didn't mean to offend you."

Neither spoke during the short drive to the Abbey. It was too dark for Tom to see Sybil's face through the rear view mirror but his impression that she had fallen asleep was confirmed when she didn't stir when he stopped the motor car in front of the house.

If it had been up to him he would have left her sleeping and carried her into the house and then up into her bedroom. Not that he had any idea which room was hers just that it was somewhere up that grand staircase. He chuckled at the thought of Carson or his lordship seeing him, dressed in his green livery, carrying Sybil in his arms walking up the grand staircase. He wasn't sure if they'd faint or attack him.


	3. Chapter 3

Having just finished replacing the spark plugs on the Renault, Tom decided to take a break and enjoy the return of the sun. After the overcast skies and the almost constant rain of the past few days he thought it was a relief to have a brightly shining sun in an almost cloudless sky. Although the air still had a bit of a nip in it, after all it was only late April, the sunny cobblestone courtyard felt much warmer than the inside of the garage.

He took an old wooden kitchen chair he kept in the garage and placed it in the courtyard just to the left of one of the open garage doors where he could feel the full effect of the sun's rays. He was just finishing a chapter of his bookwhen he heard the clickety-clack of footsteps on the courtyard's cobblestones. He couldn't help but smile as that sound had become familiar to him and he knew without looking up it would be Lady Sybil standing there. While the rest of the family relied on Carson to transmit their requests for the motor car Lady Sybil had begun coming to the garage personally to make her requests.

He had come to Downton principally for the much higher wages offered by Lord Grantham yet once he had arrived at the estate he was pleasantly surprised at having his own cottage which was quite a step up from the tiny attic room offered by his previous employer. However, he found several other unexpected surprises of his Downton employment among them the 1911 Renault which was a dream car to drive and the use of his lordship's extensive library.

Yet by far the most unexpected surprise was the youngest daughter of the house Lady Sybil. Always greeting him with a smile, she was far nicer and kinder than he presumed any member of the family would be. More startling was that an Earl's daughter would be interested in women's rights and politics. These mutual interests had led them to an unlikely friendship or at least he considered it a friendship.

"What brings you out here on this fine April morning" he asked as he rose from his chair.

She smiled that beautiful smile that made his heart flutter a bit. "It is nice isn't it after all that rain we've had" she replied as she glanced up at the sky and then around the courtyard before settling her sight on him.

"And might this sunshine have inspired you to take a drive into the countryside?" There was no mistaking the hint of amusement in his voice.

In response she sighed as she shook her head. "Sadly no it's another afternoon at the dressmakers but I think I like your suggestion better."

He just didn't get this _the season_ thing. As she had explained it to him it was a time when the landed gentry and aristocracy met and mingled in London. It was weeks of late night dinners and balls, garden parties, and afternoon calls on friends and acquaintances. It was the time when young girls like Sybil made their debut in society, were presented at court and thus suddenly becoming eligible for marriage. To him it all seemed so silly, so forced with all their little rules. Even worse it was a stark reminder of the class differences between them.

And to one with his socialist leanings the season was just another demonstration of an unfair and unjust system, the waste of money. How many new outfits did one need for the season? He couldn't count the number of times in the last few weeks he had driven Sybil to the dressmakers. And it wasn't just Sybil, her mother and sisters also apparently _needed_ new dresses and hats and shoes for the season.

Her sisters. He suddenly smiled at the thought of her sisters. Both of them had made their debuts quite some time ago and neither had snagged a husband. Just as suddenly his smile vanished for he thought of how Sybil was so much prettier than her sisters, so much kinder and nicer, and … and so much more interesting. Any man would be lucky …

"so 2:30 Branson" Sybil looked at Tom who seemed lost in his thoughts.

"Branson!" she said a bit forcefully to catch his attention.

"I'm sorry milady … I let my mind wander a bit … guess it's the sunshine" he gave her a smile.

"I said I need you at 2:30 to drive me to the dressmakers."

"Of course. Will it just be you?" It hadn't escaped his notice that her mother accompanied her to the dressmakers.

A look of annoyance clouded her beautiful face. She looked down at the ground. "Mama will also be coming" her voice almost a whisper.

Then she lifted her face, her hands knotted into fists placed on her hips, her eyes blazing. "I can't be trusted to pick out my own dresses."

She took a few paces back and forth. In a perfect imitation of the dowager she said. "Sybil dear things like those … those trousers … whatever those horrid things are called … just aren't acceptable."

"It might liven up things if you showed up in your harem pants" Tom injected.

She stopped her pacing and stood in front of him and he could feel her eyes boring into him. Afraid he had overstepped his bounds but as his mind raced to think of something to say she suddenly burst into laughter.

"Oh the look on their faces when I entered the drawing room that night."

"They were stunned."

Sybil stopped laughing and looked at Tom. "How did you see them?"

"Well I …" Tom looked down and shuffled his feet before sheepishly looking back at her. "Well I just happened to be passing by the window and … and … I caught a glimpse of something green swirling … so I stopped and looked."

Sybil stared at him. He suddenly felt uneasy and it dawned on him that maybe he had mistaken her friendliness for actual friendship.

"And what did you think?"

Although his first thought was _you were the most beautiful woman I've ever seen_ he wisely kept that to himself. "How daring you were and how fitting it was of you."

Then, just like that night in the drawing room, she seemed to stretch a little taller, her head slightly tilted, her eyes gleamed, and in her lips turned into a shy smile.

And, just like that night, Tom's heart fluttered.


	4. Chapter 4

**September 1914**

According to Sybil, it was only to be a small affair, something that had been planned well before war was declared, a final soirée until the end of the war. Yet judging by the number of motor cars already parked around Henderson Hall's elaborate courtyard of flower beds and fountains it appeared to Tom that even a war could not stop the lavish entertaining of England's aristocracy and he questioned Sybil's definition of "a small affair".

Unlike most of his fellow chauffeurs Tom did not while away the hours waiting for Crawleys in the garage playing cards. He had made an appearance there so as not to appear unsocial but after a short time of greetings and small chit chat he had left preferring the solitude of reading a book to the card games (and ensuing betting of money he certainly couldn't spare) that many of the chauffeurs played waiting for house party to end. Finding his way back to where the motor cars were parked he did engage in conversation with a couple of other chauffeurs that preferred staying with their motor cars rather than being tempted by the unlikely possibilities of winnings at the card games.

Sitting in the motor car, Tom polished off the cheese tart and crusty bread that Mrs. Patmore had packed for his dinner. As the evening wore on and the darkness brought a chill to the late September air Tom sought refuge in the servants hall for a bit of warmth, a light by which to read his book and hopefully a cup of hot tea. He had found it surprising that not all owners allowed visiting chauffeurs to use the servants hall even in the dead of winter, instead relegating them only to the garage. But the owners of Henderson Hall, whose names Tom couldn't quite recall, were a bit more humane and visiting chauffeurs were allowed to sit in the servants hall while the Lords and Ladies dined and danced in the great hall above stairs.

Finishing the last of his cup of hot tea, Tom stood and looking at the large round wooden clock hanging on the wall of the servants hall he was glad to see that it was well after midnight. If the Crawleys stuck to their usual custom they would soon be leaving for home. With a nod to the two other chauffeurs sitting at the table, Tom buttoned his heavy green jacket and headed for the motor car.

The path to the courtyard where the motor cars were parked skirted by a garden with a large round fountain shooting water up into the air. As he approached the fountain Tom noticed a lone woman sitting atop the three foot high outer edge wall of the fountain but it wasn't until he was within ten or so feet of her that he realized it was Sybil causing him to pause and silently look at her. She didn't appear to have heard his footsteps on the gravel path as she had kept her head bowed looking down at her hands that lay folded on her lap. The almost full moon cast a silvery glow over her and caused the jeweled hair pins holding her dark hair in an elaborate do to sparkle. Her dark purple cloak was thrown over her shoulders and he knew how the cloak's deep color emphasized the blueness of her eyes.

It had been almost two months ago that they had held hands at the garden party leading Tom to believe, well hoping to believe, that there was possibly a future for them. That it hadn't just been a moment where Sybil was just swept up in the glee of Gwen's great new job opportunity. That Sybil meant all those things she said about the inequity of the class structure. But there had been no more hand holding, in fact no talk of the possibility of them. She still came to the garage, actually more than before, only their conversations seemed to always center on the war.

The war. Tom gave a slight grunt. He could faintly hear the strings of the orchestra playing in what he supposed was a grand hall and twirling around that hall would be the Lords and Ladies bedecked in jewels and the finest of silks. Sybil must have heard his grunt for she raised her head and looked around her. Even in the moonlight it was clear to him that the look on her face was one of discomfortand he hurried forward.

"I'm sorry my lady. I was just having a cup of tea. Thought it a bit early yet for you to leave."

Yet as she turned to face him, he noted her momentarily look of puzzlement as if she wasn't sure who he was, before giving a slight shake of her head.

Remaining seated on the edge of the fountain she once again gave that slight shake of her head. "It's alright Branson. I just came out to … to" she paused and looked down at her lap.

"Oh Branson. They talk of war as if it's-" again there was that shake of her head only this time accompanied with what he thought might be a sniffle.

She suddenly stood up and pointing at the fountain her voice became stronger. "In the summertime we used to play in that fountain. Me and Billy Henderson and Will Yeardly and Tom Bella…" Her voice faded and she laughed as she waved her hand as if splashing the water. "Oh we had so much fun. Of course" she looked at Tom and then back at the fountain "we'd get all wet and be scolded but" again she laughed "it was worth it."

She looked once more at Tom but this time there was no laughter in her face or her voice. "Now they talk about signing up, that since the Marne how the Germans are on the run now and they want to get in on the action before it's too late. But it's not going to be that easy is it?"

Tom stepped closer to her. "I don't think so. The Germans may have pulled back but they're still in France and Belgium." It had seemed like the Germans were going to take Paris but then with the Battle of the Marne the advancement of the Germans had finally been halted and they had been forced to retreat. But they had stopped their retreat and had dug in, digging trenches, and now it appeared that the allied victory at the Marne had led to a stalemate with both sides dug into their trenches.

"All that talk that it will all be over by Christmas … it's just talk" Sybil stated. She pulled her cloak a bit tighter around her, chilled not by the air around her but by the thoughts in her head.

She looked up at the moon. "It's a beautiful night. A gorgeous night for a party" she glances at Tom "but I think this will the last party for quite a while."

 **September 1916**

Returning from taking the Dowager home, Tom halted the motor car just inside the stone gateposts that marked the entrance to Downton for before him was a most magnificent sight. In a pitch black sky glowed a bright full moon which rested just above the abbey's center turret as if the top of the house had opened and out floated the moon. Shutting off the motor, he unbuttoned his jacket and threw his hat on the seat then climbed out of the car and leaning against the front of it stood there mesmerized as the moon drifted a bit higher, its rays casting slivers of the abbey's honey colored stonewalls in a shimmering gold.

It looked so calm and peaceful he thought making the war seem even further away. The warmth of the day had quickly evaporated with the setting sun and Tom, not yet willing to return to the garage, buttoned his jacket to fend off the chill in the night air. But the war was no longer just something he read about in the newspapers for it had slowly crept into Downton. So many of the outside staff had joined up and a few of the household staff too. Thomas had been one of the first of the household staff to leave and although his absence made the servants hall a bit cheerier place, he didn't wish for any harm to come to the often calculating footman. Thomas had been followed by William and Mr. Matthew, two men whose presence was missed by many.

The silence surrounding him was broken by the snapping of twigs and the sudden appearance of three deer emerging from the nearby woods. The deer paused as if taking a moment to also admire the moon before quickly darting away. Running his hand through his hair, Tom sighed deeply before turning back to the motor car.

He pulled the motor car into the yard and quickly shut off the motor. Leaving his hat on the front seat, he stood leaning against the side of the motor car and looked once again up at the sky. From this vantage the moon seemed more distant.

"It's a fine evening." Her voice cut through the silent night, surprising him because he hadn't noticed her standing in the shadows of the garage.

"It's quite late for you to be out isn't it?" His vision was no longer captivated by the sky but her. She often appearing in the garage after dinner but always dressed in her a fine gown, her neck adorned with a sparkling jewel, and her hair in that complicated updo. But tonight was different for she had changed out of her evening finery, wearing a simple skirt and blouse with a heavy jumper to ward off the evening chill. Yet what struck Tom was that her hair hung in a loose braid down her back, a look he had never seen before. Had she retired for the evening and then hastily decided to come see him?

"I was beginning to despair thinking you weren't coming back."

"I was caught up in the beauty of the night" he glanced up at the moon and then back at her. "I took a few minutes to watch the moon."

Sybil lifted her head to look up at the sky. She had been so consumed by her thoughts that she hadn't realized there was a full moon. But something clicked in her brain and she thought it had been night much like this one, of a cool September evening and a full moon, of a grand party and talk of the war.

"I wasn't ready to go to sleep" she replied sheepishly as her hands dug deeper into the pockets of her jumper. "I … I…" she began nibbling on her lower lip in that way she had. As she thought once again of the letter she received this morning with news of her childhood friend, tears pooled in her eyes.

"I can't just keep doing worthless things like finding prizes for the tombola when so many of the men I know, my childhood friends have-" she paused as she tilted her head down and wiped away a tear. Then pulling her shoulders back and lifting her head she looked straight at Tom. "I want to do real work. I'm going to become a nurse."

"A nurse" he mumbled.

"You don't think I can do it?" she snarled.

He stepped closer to her, his hand reaching out to touch her arm. "Of course I think you can do it, you just surprised me that's all."

"You really think I can do it?" her lips curled into a faint smile while his hand still held her arm.

"I think with your kindness and caring you'd make a wonderful nurse."

She rewarded him with a genuine smile, the kind that lit up her face and that he found so beguiling, and his heart fluttered just a bit.


	5. Chapter 5

**As always thanks for the reviews of the last chapter. This chapter carries on that theme.**

Unless one of the family had requested his services as the chauffeur, Tom usually lingered in the servants hall well after breakfast, sitting alone at the long wooden table drinking tea and reading the previous day's newspapers that his lordship had discarded. Unlike the footmen and housemaids who after breakfast scattered about the house to perform their daily tasks, Tom had no such set tasks and was therefore free to linger and have a second or even a third cup of tea and maybe an extra scone or two. However, last night when he drove the Dowager and Mrs. Crawley home from dinner he heard some knocking sounds in the motor car but he had been too tired to work on it upon returning to the garage and so this morning he took the newspapers and retreated to the garage to start working on the problem.

He had almost finished his work when he heard the familiar clop clop of her shoes on the cobblestones in front of the garage and his heart once again did that familiar flutter at the thought of her presence.

She stopped just inside the wide open garage doorway, her eyes surveying the garage as if it was some unfamiliar sight, and then her face breaking out in a smile at the sight of his legs sticking out from beneath the motor car. Although she remained silent she thought he must have sensed her presence for it was only a moment or two later that he scooted out from beneath the motor car. He stood as he always did and his broad smile and slight nod of his head was, like hers, their silent greeting.

He glanced up at the wall clock and surprised at the early hour wondered why she was here in the garage. She hadn't ordered the motor car and looking at her rather plain outfit, or maybe simple was a better word to describe her dress because although her navy blue skirt and flowered blouse were devoid of decoration he knew they probably cost more than his entire wardrobe, she didn't appear dressed for shopping or visiting.

Her smile vanished as she nibbled her lower lip but with her eyes still sparkling she looked rather impish and he waited for whatever pithy remark she so obviously wanted to make.

"Edith announced at dinner last night that you said she's ready for the road."

His reflexive laugh turned into a cough causing him to hit his chest several times with his fist.

"So I take it you don't agree with her assessment?"

"What she does to the gear shift is …" he shook his head as he looked at the car he so lovingly cared for.

"Well we're all trying to do our part for the war effort" Sybil retorted.

"And just how does Lady Edith learning to drive fit into the war effort?" Tom was rather baffled. He couldn't imagine her volunteering as an ambulance driver and heaven help the wounded if she did he thought.

"I'll admit I am a bit mystified about that myself" Sybil chuckled then suddenly stopped as she looked at him in alarm. "Surely you're not … you haven't … you're not going to sign up!"

"Of course not." He peered at her, his blue eyes turned cold and hard. "I'll not fight for the English King."

Surprised at the intensity of his gaze, Sybil tilted her head down, her hands tugging at the sides of her dress and took a deep breath. Tom wasn't ashamed of what he had said or of the intensity of his words but he didn't want to distress her.

When he had walked back to the garage after breakfast in the big house, the sky had begun to lighten although the sun had not yet appeared on the horizon. Now looking out the open doorway he noted the sun was just now skirting the tree tops.

"Rather early for you to be out here" he finally said as a way of moving the conversation onto more neutral territory. "Couldn't sleep thinking of what culinary delights you'll conquer today?"

Crossing her arms over her chest, she looked up at him but her indignation quickly left as she noted the silly grin on his face and the twinkle in his eyes.

"Well now that I've mastered making tea and boiling an egg" she laughed "I think I'm ready to …" she paused as if trying to think what would be the next logical progression.

"Scrambled eggs?" he offered teasingly. "Or soup." He looked up at the sky and raised the collar of his overalls. "The weather's getting chillier and a hearty soup would be good. And maybe some good bread to go with it, a nice brown bread or soda bread."

She arched her brow. "And if I made soup … and a nice brown bread" she said emphasizing the words nice and brown "why would you" this time emphasizing the word you "be tasting them?"

"Well every new cook needs a taster" he responded. "To give proper feedback" he quickly added.

"I thought that's what Mrs. Patmore was."

"Ah" he leaned his head towards her and whispered "Mrs. Patmore might be afraid to give you an honest opinion I mean what with you being one of the ladies of the house."

Sybil tilted her head. "You think my being a lady might make Mrs. Patmore hold her tongue?"

That thought made both of them chuckle and it was a sheepish Tom who ventured "No I guess not."

"I saw you hovering around in kitchen doorway watching me. You must have thought I looked a bit foolish" she said as the smile left her face.

Without thinking his hand reached out and touched her arm. "I would never think that" he quickly responded and just as quickly pulled his arm back. Rather than thinking her foolish, as he had watched her he had thought how well she got along with the other girls in the kitchen, that her class had made no barrier in interacting with Daisy and the others. "Actually I was quite impressed with your determination."

She deeply inhaled. "I just don't want to seem foolish to my classmates.

He was struck by her earnestness.

"Watching you in the kitchen with Daisy and the other girls made me think how natural you are around others, how well you can talk and laugh with anyone. I'm sure you'll get along with your classmates just fine."

Her face lit up with a beaming smile. "You really think that? Oh Branson I hope you're right. It's just that I've never … well I haven't … well I never went to a proper school and-"

"Don't" he interrupted her. "Don't doubt yourself my lady."

"Only you and cousin Isobel seem to think I can do it. You're the only two to give me any encouragement."

"I guess Mrs. Crawley and I can see beyond" he hesitated as he looked around the garage and he ran his hand through his hair. "It's like how you were with Gwen knowing that she could be something more than a housemaid."

A glance at the wall clock reminded him once again of the early hour. "So what delights are you cooking today?"

"Oh!" she seemed a bit startled as she looked at the clock hanging above the work bench. "I guess I better get going."

"And my offer of being your taster still stands" he called out as she had already turned to head back towards the house. "I think maybe a banana bread would be nice or if you want to get fancy some of that salmon mousse on little slices of bread topped with cucumber.

She stopped and turned back around to face him. "Really Branson salmon mousse?"

"Well it looks so grand on the trays that go up to the dining room."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes I'll get right on that but …"

She looked down at her feet, her hands pulling on her sweater. "Oh! I didn't tell you why I came out here so early." She walked back towards him. "Last night at dinner cousin Isobel told me there's a vacancy at the school and I can start on Friday."

"Friday!" the word was out of his mouth before he gave any thought to it. How could she leave so soon?

She nodded her head. "Apparently someone dropped out."

"But Friday" he murmured. "It just seems so soon."

She took a step back, pulling her shoulders back, standing erect, glaring at him. "You think I need more time to prepare?" her voice filled with a sudden anger.

"No of course not." Fearing he had offended her, he quickly countered, trying to soothe her, "I told you I think you'll make a wonderful nurse truly I do."

He looked down and his hand brushed across his chest as if removing some imaginary lint, his mind racing at the thought that she would be gone for months. "I'm just surprised that it's happened so quickly. I … I thought … I … it will be lonely here without you."

Noting the surprised look on her face he quickly added "I mean who will I have to talk to?"


	6. Chapter 6

**It's a first for me - I've never posted two things in one day before! But this has been sitting around on my computer for quite some time so I thought I either need to post it or delete it.**

It was one of those glorious spring days made even more welcomed after a week of overcast skies often filled with ominous dark clouds that would suddenly release a torrent of rain. Today that dull relentless grayness had been replaced by a riot of color; a cloudless blue sky, trees suddenly teeming with newly green leaves and shrubs awash in blooms of purples and pinks. The drive to Anthrian Hall, a grand estate just beyond Thursk, reminded Tom of how beautiful the Yorkshire countryside was with its gently rolling hills, fields outlined by stone fences and filled with grazing sheep whose whiteness was a contrast to the newly green grass, and here and there patches of bright color as he drove past spring blooming shrubs.

"Really Edith did you have to wear that hat?" Lady Mary cried out as Edith's hat swatted once again against her cheek. "Couldn't you tell it was much too large for here in the motor car?"

Lady Mary's grating voice woke Tom from his thoughts of how much the Yorkshire countryside reminded him of Ireland.

It wasn't often that he drove Lady Grantham and her daughters to somewhere other than Ripon for shopping or the dressmakers but what made this trip even more rare was that all three daughters were accompanying her ladyship. One of the things that had surprised him was the relationship between the sisters which was nothing like the warm and affectionate relationship between his own sisters. While his sisters might occasionally squabble, as he did with his own brothers, the bickering between the Crawley sisters, Tom quickly changed that to Lady Mary and Lady Edith, was almost constant.

"If you had let me sit by the window like I-" Edith began in that whiny tone she often had.

"Actually whatever possessed you to even purchase that monstrosity?" Lady Mary continued as she trained her dark icy eyes on her sister.

Edith, looking bitter and resentful as she usually did around her older sister, stared straight ahead trying to ignore her.

Tom glanced to the rear view to surreptitiously view his passengers but his sight quickly fell on Lady Sybil. Staring out the side window she seemed oblivious to her sisters' bickering but then he detected the slightest of sighs as her head turned slightly towards the front and raising her brows as if secretly signaling her discontent.

"Mary" Lady Grantham began in that soft voice of hers. "Edith's hat goes quite nicely with her dress."

* * *

" _I've heard Annabelle Finchley is having all her dresses made by her mother's lady's maid."_

" _I'd be the laughing stock of the ball if my gown were made by my lady's maid."_

" _It will be hard to foist Annabelle off any way and if her dresses …"_

As the conversation swirled around her, Sybil was growing more and more bored as luncheon progressed and she wished she was somewhere other than sitting in this dining room. _Maybe the lady's maid is a wonderful seamstress_ thought Sybil. She looked around the table at Julia and Eliza and wondered what had happened to her childhood friends. Eliza who had always been quick with a joke was now far too much like Granny with her sometimes cruel and always biting comments. _And Annabelle is quite lovely_ thought Sybil.

This timid Julia sitting across from her surely wasn't the Julia that had once had been as wild and carefree as Sybil, the Julia who whenever she and Sybil got together spent hours laughing and playing pranks and so often ended up with wet shoes or skinned knees and torn stockings and looking so disheveled they were severely scolded for their unlady-like behavior. Sybil sighed before taking a bite of her walnut crusted baked halibut and wishing Imogen was here.

" _I've had the most divine ball gown made by our …"_

" _My Grandmother has sent me the most hideous gown from New Orleans"_

Listening to the conversation, she wondered why couldn't a group of women sitting around a table find talking about women's rights more interesting than the difficulty of finding a good lady's maid or whether to use a local dressmaker or a London one for their wardrobe for the upcoming season.

" _What would you expect from America? Really the only divine gowns come from Paris."_

The mention of Paris did spark Sybil's attention as she thought of her harem pants. "I do love the idea of looser and freer clothes like those Paul Poiret is designing" Sybil finally entered the conversation. "I like the idea of getting rid of the corset and his harem pants ..."

Her hopes of turning the conversation into one about the restrictions of women's fashions were quickly dashed as Lady Antrougher boomed. "It's simply scandalous women wearing pants. Why ever would they want to look like men?"

"But his pants certainly aren't manish" Sybil countered even though several of the ladies had nodded and muttered "here here" to Lady Antrougher's comments. "I think they're-"

"It's bad enough that those women are trying to get the vote I guess they want to look like men too" Lady Helene talked over Sybil.

"What next women becoming doctors or solicitors or vying for political office" Eliza chimed in while some of the ladies snickered.

But Sybil wasn't deterred. "Why shouldn't women work or be in politics?" Sybil countered. "And why shouldn't we be able to vote? It's our -"

"Well I for one certainly have no desire to work" Eliza didn't wait for Sybil to finish talking. "I mean really Sybil can you see yourself as some shop girl?

What would Larry Grey say hearing you talk like this?"

"Larry?" Sybil was puzzled. "Whatever does Larry have to do with what I think or say?"

"Oh come now Sybil we all know Larry's crazy about you. I remember how he used to follow you around whenever we were all together. Are you going to make it official during your season?"

"I don't know where you get your information Eliza but I have no intention of making anything official during my season and especially not with Larry Grey." Sybil could feel her face becoming flush and she had to fight to keep the anger out of her voice.

"So do you have your wardrobe all set Eliza?" Mary, taking one look at Sybil knew she had to steer the conversation away from Larry Grey yet she didn't want Sybil to go on about those silly pants or heaven forbid launch into her politics.

"Almost. I still need a few things and we're going up to London next week so …"

In disgust Sybil lowered her head and closed her eyes as once again conversation turned to that most banal of topics.

"That's a lovely hat Edith dear" Lady Antrougher's voice bellowed across the table.

Sybil wasn't sure she could keep from screaming so she stuffed her mouth with a forkful of shrimp mousse. Keeping her head lowered as if she was studying the food on her plate she couldn't help wondering why the only person interested in talking with her about women's rights and the vote and politics was the new Irish chauffeur.


	7. Chapter 7

Tom woke with a start, startled by some sounds that in his sleepy state he couldn't quite identify, and in the dim light he wasn't sure where he was. It took a moment to realize he wasn't in a bed but rather seated. Stretching out his legs, he stifled a yawn.

A giggle was closely followed by "Finally awake sleepy head" in that husky voice of hers, so close to him that it was almost a whisper. "Sybil?" he said as he turned towards her.

"And who else might you think I'd be?" she replied.

"I … I …" he reached over and ran his hand along her cheek. "For a moment I was afraid it was all a dream … that you …"

Her hand reached up and clasped his. "I'm here Tom" she smiled at him and his heart once again melted at the sight of those lovely eyes looking intently at him. "And soon we'll be in Ireland" she nodded towards the wall of windows "it's getting lighter out so I think we're getting close to land."

Following her direction, Tom's sight drifted across the large passenger lounge towards the bank of windows and he was happy to see that the beyond them was no longer an inky blackness but a muted gray dotted with streaks of lightness.

"Did you sleep at all?" he asked.

"Surprisingly quite a bit I think" Sybil answered. Agreeing they needed to conserve their money they had sought the comfort of the lounge rather than splurging on a private cabin. At first the lounge had been quite lively with impromptu music from a few passengers who had carried aboard their pipes and fiddles and one odd looking instrument that Tom explained to her was called a bodhrán. Even Tom had joined in the ensuing singing showing her a new and unexpected facet of him. It had been quite late when people finally settled down for the night.

Tom had been gripped by a sudden burst of uneasiness at the sight a group of British soldiers sitting together in a far corner of the lounge isolated from the rest of the passengers. It reminded him that his beloved homeland was in a war, a far different war than the so called _Great War_ that had recently ended but a war none the less. He imagined that the music and singing was a way for the Irish passengers to remind those soldiers that they were returning to their land, their home.

Grabbing his hand Sybil pulled him up from the seat. "Let's go out on deck Tom. I don't want to miss the first sightings of my new home."

As soon as they stepped out onto the deck in the faint early morning light they were hit with a blast of chilly sea air. "Are you sure about this?" Tom asked as he pulled up the collar of his coat and buttoned all the buttons but Sybil was undeterred. "I think I'm too excited to be cold" she responded as she clutched her long woolen cloak tighter around her.

Wrapping his arm around her waist, Tom led Sybil to a small spot nested between two large round posts that sheltered them from the wind. The muted gray sky had turned lighter and bluer with streaks of pinks and yellows from the sun quickly rising. Spotting a strong light off to their right Sybil asked "Is that Kingstown?"

"No" replied Tom. "It's the lightship at Kish Bank to guide us through this shallow sand bank to Dublin Bay. Many a ship has been wrecked by these shallows. Although the worst was the sinking of the RMS Leinster near here by a German submarine last October."

He pulled Sybil closer to him. "Over 500 souls were lost including many nurses supporting the British military."

Sybil rested her head against his chest. "Oh Tom that's so sad" she said her voice breaking. "To think all those deaths and the war was almost over."

They stood in quiet, each lost in their own thoughts, until the sharp squawking of several sea gulls hovering around the ship let them know that they were coming closer to land. Grasping Sybil's hand, Tom led her to the front of the ship where in the distance loomed the dark outline of land against the faint grey-blue sky.

As the ship hurried on towards port, the sky grew bluer and the land became more visible until at last Sybil was able to distinguish buildings. The tops of several church spires gleamed in the sun's rays. Around the ship a few fishing boats bobbed in the fairly calm water.

"It's not the most beautiful spot of Ireland's coast" Tom said. "But near here are cliffs that drop right into the sea and in other spots there's beaches with golden sand."

"Over there" he pointed to their right "see that distant land. That's the other end of Dublin Bay and the town Howth where my family went every summer for a day at the sea. We'd play in the water and sand and then fill our bellies with the freshest fish and chips."

"Oh Sybil there's so much of Ireland I want to show you. There's the plenty of beautiful coastline. There in the distance you can faintly see the Wicklow Mountains with beautiful lakes and my grandfather had a farm about an hour away to the west. We can have picnics and days at the seashore and talk long cliff walks."

"It all sounds so lovely Tom."

"And in Dublin itself there's the theatre and the library at Trinity College and St. Stephen's Green."

Sybil chuckled at Tom's enthusiasm. "I look forward to seeing it all but" she turned towards him "but most of all I look forward to being with you."

"Oh Sybil" Tom leaned over and kissed her, relishing that at last he was free to do so.

Walking down the gangway Tom was surprised by the number of uniformed British soldiers stationed around the pier carefully observing the disembarking passengers. And for a moment Tom had a pang of worry. _What was he bringing Sybil to?_


	8. Chapter 8

Sybil brought the horse to a halt. "You did good old mare" she said as ran her hand up and down gently patting the horse's long graceful neck. Giving old Buttercup some time to rest before ambling back to the stables, Sybil tilted her head back to feel the sun on her face. It was an idyllic late spring morning with a cloudless blue sky, a warm sun and a faint breeze that had the merest hint of lilacs. It had felt good cantering across the fields; it was a type of freedom she seldom felt.

"Ready to head home now" she softly spoke to the mare. It was a well-worn path, sometimes between stone-fenced fields, sometimes skirting woods now green in leafy fullness, they used to amble back toward the stables. At the top of a hill she stopped to take in the breathtaking scenery of gently rolling hills, some meadows full of colorful wildflowers, some fields of bright green spring grass dotted with grazing sheep while other fields were deep brown of newly plowed earth. It was an idyllic pastoral scene of the lovely Yorkshire countryside of trees and shrubs, sheep and horses, stacked stoned fences and there in the distance sitting so majestic was her home with its honey colored stone gleaming in the sun's rays.

Sybil breathed in deeply the fresh air. It was so quiet here with only the occasional snap of a twig signaling some unseen animal, probably a rabbit or maybe a deer. As she looked once more at the house she saw the Renault motoring up the gravel drive and she couldn't help but smile. For so long she had felt stifled in voicing in politics but now at last she had someone to share her beliefs with and of all people it was the Irish chauffeur.

Rather than rushing back to the house, Sybil detoured from the stables to the garage. Not that it was much of a detour for the garage had once housed the horse-drawn carriages used by the family and thus was part of the large Downton stable block.

So intent was Tom hunched over working on his project he failed to hear the crunch of Sybil's riding boots on the gravel courtyard.

She stopped and curiously watched him hard at work on something she couldn't quite imagine what it was. Surely it was something too big for the motor car. "Whatever are you doing?" she finally asked.

At the sound of her smooth silky voice, he automatically smiled before straightening up and looking at her. But his smile vanished and with a raised brow his face took on an air of inquisitiveness as he noted her dress. The long deep blue fitted jacket with its velvet labels and the white scarf around her neck didn't seem too unusual but the very full long skirt was and even more so was the top hat with veil on her head.

"Are you going to a funeral?" he hesitantly asked.

Her brow furrowed. "Why ever would you" she began before noting his eyes seemed focused on her hat. Reaching up and touching her hat with her left hand she chuckled. "I've been out riding."

Removing her hat she asked "Didn't anyone at your last employment ride?"

He shook his head. "It was just Mrs. Delafield and she must have been at least 70."

He nodded towards the hat. "You have an outfit just for horseback riding?" He didn't know why he found it so outlandish that the rich had special outfits just for riding around on a horse although he silently thought she looked stunningly beautiful. Maybe it was that the color of the jacket brought out the blue of her eyes. Or maybe it was seeing her hatless giving him a good look at the deep rich color of hair.

His look was so intent that Sybil found herself squirming a bit under his gaze. "I guess you just jump on a horse in whatever you were wearing and go off" she said.

"Considering my wardrobe isn't that extensive I guess I would" he started. "That is if I were inclined to get on a horse which I'm not."

"You've never been on a horse?"

"Not many riding horses in Dublin my lady. Got bite by the milk man's horse once when I tried to climb on him. But my uncle had a horse on his farm which he used to pull a plow. Course me and my brother Eoin didn't know a work horse isn't for riding. Must have been about seven or eight me and Eoin rode almost across the field on my Uncle's farm. No fancy hat on my head" he smirked at her. "No saddle either. Maybe if we had one we might not had fallen off. At least I stayed on longer than my brother and my fall was softened by a hay bale. Eoin broke his arm, luckily not the same arm broken when the milk man's horse kicked him."

"I've also had some experience with a donkey but that didn't end too well either."

"Sounds like you've had quite an illustrious riding career." Sybil couldn't help but laugh. "You do know there's a stable full horses on just the other side of that building."

"I've made it a point not to walk that way. No the only horsepower I'm interested in is in these things" he said as he patted the bonnet of the Renault."

Pointing to what he had been working on she asked "So what are you doing?"

Breaking his gaze from her he looked down beside him. "This my lady" he said as he turned the wooden object upright "is a rolling tool cart."

"A rolling tool cart?"

"So I don't have to keep bending down and picking up a tool or a rag or whatever I need. And on nice days like this I can work on the motor car here in the courtyard and have my tools quite handy."

"You made that yourself?"

"It's not exactly anything elaborate or that took special skills" he responded. "I found the wheels on an old child's wagon."

She stared at him. "Not an old wagon painted blue and white."

The color on his face drained. "Surely it wasn't being used."

"It was mine" she replied. "I loved that wagon. I had to beg for years before Father Christmas finally brought it for me." Her face took on a dreamy look. "Oh the things I hauled in it."

"I … I…" Tom was flustered.

"Things I found around the estate. Things I considered my treasures."

"I could get some new wheels for it and-"

"Branson!"

He stopped and looked at her. "These days I hardly roam around the estate picking up colorful stones or odd shaped pieces of wood or whatever it was I found so interesting as a child" she laughed. "So you're quite welcome to use the wheels."

She walked over to the cart to take a closer look. It looked like a small table, maybe an end table or nightstand. "A rolling tool cart! Quite practical I'd say." She raised her head and smiled at him. "You're quite clever."

He felt his face flush. Why did she have such an effect on him?

"I bet when you were a little boy you made your own wagon."

He laughed. "Not really. My brothers and I always did a bit of scavenging. We'd find all sorts of things and fix them up. I did find a beat up old wagon once. It had a wheel missing and I couldn't find a matching sized wheel so I converted it into a three wheel wagon but it did tip sometimes if you pulled it real fast while trying to turn it."

"So how did you go from fixing wagons to fixing motor cars?"

"As long as I can remember I've had a fascination with motor cars" and she saw how animated his face became. "Not that anyone I knew owned one so sometimes I'd ride my bicycle to Sackville Street or Grafton Street and watch the cars or even better was St. Stephens Green where I could watch the motor cars coming and going from the Shellbourne Hotel." He didn't tell her he'd sit there and dream of one day driving one of those grand motors he saw.

"My aunt was the housekeeper for a man who owned a garage. When I was about thirteen she got me a job at his garage on my summer break from school doing menial things like sweeping the floors or stacking and filling the bins of parts or washing and polishing the motor cars before their owners came to retrieve them but I'd spend a lot of time watching the mechanics working. Soon I was helping this one mechanic, fetching the right tools, holding pieces in place for him, stuff like that but he'd explain each part and what it did so I learned a lot from him. By the time I was sixteen I could do a better repair job than most of the mechanics in that garage."

"So how did your attention turn to driving?"

"Ah" his smile deepened. "You surely don't think I'd be content just looking at a motor car?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you to the guest and cc71 for reviewing the last chapter.**

 **1914**

Tom stood by the Renault waiting for his passenger to come out of the house. It seemed as if a lot of his time was spent waiting. Waiting for his lordship as he attended one of his monthly old regiment luncheons in York. What a shock that had been the first time Tom saw him exit the house in his old British Army dress. Waiting for the ladies in Ripon as they spent hours deciding on yet another dress or hat as if they didn't already own enough dresses but then again when one needlessly changes clothes four or five times a day he shook his head. Waiting for old Lady Grantham or Mrs. Crawley to finish dinner, waiting for the family or their guest's arrival at the Downton railway station or waiting for some family member to … well he could go on and on.

It wasn't that he so minded waiting particularly if the weather was nice. He couldn't wander far from the motor car, heaven forbid if they had to wait for him, but he did sometimes enjoy strolling about or stopping to look in a shop's window for goods he'd probably never be able to afford. Sometimes it did give him time to read and with his lordship's fine library he had so many books to read. When the family attended some evening soiree (a word he had learned from Lady Sybil) it gave him time to talk to other chauffeurs and to his way of thinking, even better, the chance to see other motor cars. At least he could sit in the warmth of the servants hall sipping tea while waiting for old lady Crawley and Mrs. Crawley and he'd have to admit he was often amused by the bickering and bantering between the two women. And he certainly didn't mind waiting when he'd be rewarded with the sight of _her._

On this cool summer morning he stood beside the motor car in front of the honey colored stone house looking at it as if it were the first time he'd seen it. His view slowly roamed from one end of the house to the other. How many rooms were in there? It was something he had wondered since the first time he saw the house. Whatever do you do with all those rooms?

He was so deep in those thoughts that he didn't noticed when the reason for his waiting beside the motor car this morning finally appeared. It was only a deep throaty "ahem" from Carson that woke him from his thoughts.

As soon as Tom settled in the driver's seat Sybil said "you seemed rather preoccupied."

"I was just thinking about the house and wondering how many rooms there are."

"You're thinking about how many rooms there are?" She sounded as if she wasn't quite sure to believe him.

"I mean you could probably house an army in there and still have empty rooms" he responded.

"Yes I suppose we could" she laughed.

"So what do you do with all those rooms?"

She laughed again, that deep husky laugh that he thought he would never tire of hearing. "Well we don't do anything with a lot of them. I guess at one time they might have had a purpose. Granny talks about how once there were days long house parties for fifty or more people so that would certainly have filled a lot of bedrooms."

Looking out the passenger window she continued talking and a sly smile came over her face. "When I was young I found a couple of deserted rooms where I could play in peace. No one yelling at me for bouncing a ball or worrying that I was going to break a priceless vase or telling me I was being too loud."

"One year my American grandmother sent me a pair of roller skates for Christmas, it was a year we had snow but I just had to try them out so I found a back hallway that I could use. My skating alley only lasted for a few days because one day Edith followed me there. Since I had only been skating for a day or two so I wasn't too good at stopping and she stood there in the middle of the hallway ignoring my pleas for her to move so despite my best efforts I plowed into her knocking us both down." All these years later Sybil could still picture Edith standing there, hands on her hips, threatening to tell Papa. "I wasn't hurt but Edith broke her arm" which served her right to Sybil's way of thinking.

Sybil turned her face to look in the rear view mirror. "Of course I was blamed and Papa took my skates were taken away from me."

"That hardly seems fair" he commented as he looked at her determined face in the mirror.

She leaned forward, nodding her head. "Just what I thought!" She sat back then added "but of course I usually got the blame for when things happened."

He chuckled. "I think that goes with being the youngest. My older brothers always blamed me and was I ever glad when my younger brother was old enough to blame."

"You have three brothers?"

"And three sisters. One's a year older than me and the other two are younger than you."

"Seven children!" Her eyes widened at the thought.

Keeping his head looking forward towards the road in front of them he nodded. "Our house was too small to find any place to be alone so when I wanted to get away I'd go visit the old lady next door. Her children were all grown and out of the house and I'd go there to help her and she'd always give me some milk and biscuits and then let me sit in her parlor to read a book."

Tilting her head, her eyes narrowed as if trying to get a better look at him. "That sounds very much like you" she finally said.

* * *

She was so very different from not only the rest of her family but from his perception of the aristocracy and slowly he found himself becoming enamored with her. He wasn't sure what made him reach for her hand at the garden party but his heart fluttered when she smiled at him, her hand clutched in his. Countless times since then he had looked at the house and wondered which room was Sybil's. Countless times he had lain in his bed, in the tiny bedroom of the chauffeur's cottage and wondered if she was lying in her bed thinking of him.

The road curved and the house suddenly loomed in the distance looking magnificent and forbidding. "Some of the rooms must have a wonderful view" Tom commented.

Sybil looked up not quite sure what he was talking about.

Noting her seeming confusion he added "I mean if we can see the house in the distance" his head nodded in the direction of the abbey "what must someone standing in one of those rooms see?"

She smiled in comprehension of his remarks. "You can see quite a ways from some of the rooms on the upper floors. Can't really see the village but you can see the surrounding fields and hills and woods. There's one room where I'll visit with a book and sit in one of the window seats but I usually end up spending more time looking out at the view than reading."

"It sounds quite nice."

She nodded her head. "But when I was little I loved sitting in front of the windows in Mama's sitting room. I loved seeing the wild animals that would wander from the edge of the wood onto the grass. I remember a family of baby hedgehogs that fascinated me for several weeks until I guess they grew up and wandered away."

Forgoing any comments on the incredulous idea that her mother had her own sitting room, he instead asked "Don't you have a nice view from your room?

"Well not so nice that I can see hedgehogs but actually I did choose that room for the view."

He looked up at the rear view mirror to see her face.

Staring into the mirror she smiled. "Back when I wasn't old enough to attend formal dinners and such from my bedroom window I could watch our guests arriving. I loved seeing the women in their formal dresses and jewels. But I also chose that room so I could watch the sunrise."

He chuckled. "I can picture you watching the finely dressed women but I'm surprised you'd be up for sunrise."

She rolled her eyes. "Well I may not see every sunrise these days but I still enjoy them. I've always enjoyed the sunrise, the various colors, and the differences in them from day to day."

"So you can see me from your bedroom when I bring the motor car to the front of the house?"

"Of course I can" she replied before merrily adding "that is if I happen to be looking out the window at just that moment."

 **1917**

"I hear his lordship has finally consented to opening up the house as a convalescent home." Tom looked at the rear view mirror to see his passenger.

"Well I do recall you've said on more than one occasion that we could house an army in there" Sybil offered a broad smile savoring the victory she had finally won but quickly the smile fades as she remembers Lt. Courtney.

"You should be quite happy about that" he offered seeing her smile fade.

"It's just that …" she quietly replies as she continues to look out the passenger window.

Tom nods his head knowing that she's thinking of the young man who killed himself rather than be sent away from the hospital. "Well it's a fine thing you've done and a meaningful way to remember him."

"Still I can't but wonder if only-"

"You helped him as best you good at the time. There might have been nothing that would have prevented what he did but you've taken that very bad situation and turned it into something that may help other men."

She smiled wanly at him. "I do so hope you're right. I can't believe how resistant my family was to this. I mean what's the loss of a few rooms in a house"

"that could house an army" he interrupted and they both laughed.

"So when the convalescent home is up and running will you not be going to the hospital anymore?" Tom hoped his voice did not betray his anxiety that if Sybil was working at the house he'd rarely see her.

From the back seat of the motor car, Sybil looked at his reflection in the rear view mirror. "Of course I'll still go to the hospital. Those at the house won't need much actual nursing care and I don't want to lose the skills I've learned."

She turned her head and looked out the window, a sly smile slowly inching across her face. "Actually it may give me quite a bit more freedom."


End file.
